


Vincent and the Doctors

by pir8grl



Category: Beauty and the Beast (TV 1987), Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-05-10 20:35:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5599930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pir8grl/pseuds/pir8grl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor's encounters with a very special friend who lives beneath the City of New York.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Met a Traveler From an Antique Land

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you (as always!) to the lovely tenroseforeverandever.

Vincent drew back into the shadows as a strange wheezing, groaning sound filled the alley, accompanied by a strong breeze, despite the evening being still and clear. To his amazement, a large blue box appeared, seemingly out of thin air. It bore signage identifying it as a Police Public Call Box. How very strange. He’d seen them before, in a book of old photographs of London. Whatever was such a thing doing here in New York, an ocean and several decades out of place? 

His inquisitiveness piqued, Vincent edged forward and laid his hand upon the box. Curiouser and curiouser…the box didn’t feel like wood. It felt…alive…somehow. And there was something else about it. Despite the very clear image of a blue box before his eyes, and wood under his fingers, it was as if there was some other image there, dancing around the edges of his senses. 

Suddenly the double doors opened, and a man who at first appeared quite young popped out. He had reddish hair that fell to the shoulders of his green velvet frock coat, and a friendly, open smile. 

“Oh, hello!” He caught sight of Vincent’s hand, before he could snatch it back under his cloak. “Have I got the coordinates wrong again? I was aiming for Paris, early twentieth century, but from the looks of you, I’d almost say I’ve landed on Leonia Prime or some such.” 

“This is New York,” Vincent replied, struggling to keep his face hidden under his hood. 

“Really?” The stranger glanced around the dirty brick walls of the alley. “This still looks about like the twentieth century…there shouldn’t be aliens wandering about yet. Well, present company excluded, of course.” 

“It is 1982,” Vincent told him. 

“Ah, good. I’ve had quite enough of the new millennium, thanks all the same. But what about you? Are you lost? I’d be more than happy to give you a lift home. I’m the Doctor, by the way.” 

“You…you’re not afraid of me?” 

“Why should I be? I’m curious, of course, my worst personality trait, or best. Depends on who you ask.” 

“I am not lost. I live here, in the city. My name is Vincent.” 

“Like van Gogh? How splendid!” 

“I’ve seen photographs of van Gogh’s paintings in books. They are splendid.” 

“Are you fond of books?” the Doctor asked. 

Vincent nodded. “Books are my doorway to the world. Without them…” He sighed heavily. 

“This is my doorway to the world,” the Doctor said, laying a fond hand on the blue box. 

“But what is it?” Vincent asked, stepping into the light all unnoticed in his eagerness. “It looks like a telephone box from England, but it’s not, really.” 

“No, it’s not. It’s called a TARDIS - Time and Relative Dimension in Space.” 

“Space? Surely you can’t mean…?”

“I can. Would you like to see?” 

For a moment, Vincent shied back. He’d only just met this man, after all; this could so easily be a trap, a cage for the monster. Father was forever warning him not to speak to strangers (he’d long ago given up forbidding Vincent’s forays Above). Except…it didn’t feel like a trap. This ‘Doctor’ seemed open and honest, if a touch eccentric. 

Trusting his instincts, Vincent stepped inside. His blue eyes widened as he took in the instrument panels, and the curved metal struts that soared to the ceiling, far overhead. His gaze was immediately drawn to the cozy fireplace and crowded bookshelves. His hood slipped back, unnoticed, as he craned his head to see all the wonders around him. 

“It’s bigger on the inside,” he finally said. 

“Yes, it is,” the Doctor agreed. “Rather like books…or people, for that matter.” 

He smiled as Vincent wandered over to the books, drawn like a moth to a flame. He exclaimed at old favorites, and more than once, reached out, as if to touch some title that he’d only ever heard of. 

“What’s this?” he finally asked, carefully selecting a volume bound in red leather. 

“Ah. That’s from my home. From Gallifrey.” 

“Gallifrey? Is that in Ireland? These don’t look like Celtic runes.” 

“A bit farther than Ireland. Here, let me show you.” The Doctor stepped over to the console and swung around a screen. He flipped a few switches, and a star map appeared. “There we are. The constellation of Kasterborous. Home.” 

Vincent’s mouth dropped open as he stared at the image. “You’re from the stars? Truly? How very remarkable.” 

“No less remarkable than you, my friend. I’ve been coming to this world for quite a long time now, and even I need to be careful sometimes. How is it that someone like you can walk about a city like this, in 1982?” 

Vincent ducked his head, allowing his tawny hair to fall forward and hide his cat-like face. “I don’t…not really. I live…in a special place; a hidden place.” 

“Are there others like you?” 

“There are others,” Vincent replied slowly, “but no one else like me.” 

“And you’re certain that you were born on this world?” 

“As certain as one can be about such things,” Vincent said with a small shrug. “My father told me that I was found as a babe, outside St. Vincent’s Hospital. He took me in, raised me, kept me safe from the world.” 

“He sounds like a very special person.” 

“He is. All that I am, I owe to him.” 

The Doctor smiled and patted Vincent’s shoulder as he scanned the bookshelves. “You know, I’ve a rather good biography of Vincent van Gogh around here somewhere. Would you like to read it?” 

“I’d love to,” Vincent replied eagerly. “But how shall I return it to you?” 

“Oh, I come and go. I’m certain we’ll meet again someday. Ah, here we are!” He passed Vincent a hard covered book. 

Vincent studied the illustration of one of the famous sunflower paintings on the faded dust jacket. “Amelia Williams,” he read the author’s name. 

“Mmm. That name always seems strangely familiar to me, but somehow, whenever I have a moment to do some research, I get distracted. It’ll come to me, someday. Well, I do hope you enjoy your reading.” 

“And you? Will you truly go to Paris?”

“I hope so! Funny old thing, this TARDIS…she doesn’t always take me where I want to go, but it usually turns out to be the right place, all the same. ’Til we meet again, Vincent.” He held out his hand. 

Startled by the gesture, Vincent hesitated for a moment, then carefully extended his own furry hand. “’Til we meet again, Doctor.”


	2. The Land of Counterpane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you (as always!) to the lovely tenroseforeverandever.

In a small copse of trees, in a shadowy corner of Central Park, there stood a Police Public Call Box. It was the sort of thing that was quite common on the streets of London in the early nineteen sixties - and not at all common to the byways of New York City in nineteen eighty-four. The figure that stepped from it was equally out of place, looking as though he’d sprung from the pages of a Jules Verne novel. 

“Hello, old friend,” Vincent murmured, stepping from the shadows of a drainage tunnel. 

The Doctor leaned nonchalantly against the wall of the TARDIS, crossing his feet at the ankles. “Vincent! Wherever shall we go today? Fancy a voyage on the Nautilus? Or we could set sail on the Hispaniola? Or, if you’re feeling particularly adventurous, I do have books from other centuries - other worlds even.” 

“You look…troubled,” Vincent observed, noting the Doctor‘s shorter-cropped hair, and worn clothing. 

The Doctor sighed heavily. “There’s trouble at home, I’m afraid.” He gazed up into the starry night sky. 

Vincent followed his gaze. “It all looks so peaceful.” 

“From here, yes. Up there, it’s quite a different story.” 

“It’s so hard to imagine.” 

“And that’s the way I want it to stay. I’ve walked this Earth for so long, Vincent…I can’t bear the thought of Da- of difficulties - from my world, finding this place. If the worst comes, even your sanctuary won’t be enough to protect you.” 

“This weighs heavily on you.” 

The Doctor nodded. 

“Surely there are others, on your world, people who can broker peace?” 

The Doctor thumped a fist against the side of the TARDIS. “They’re too busy fighting amongst themselves.” 

“But you, you’re so passionate in your beliefs, surely you can speak?” 

The Doctor laughed mirthlessly. “They don’t take me seriously. Never have. I’ve never been one to play their games. All I ever wanted was to travel - to see the universe.” 

“It must be wonderful,” Vincent said wistfully. 

“It is - mostly. Sure I can’t tempt you with just a short jaunt?” The two friends laughed together - it was an old question. 

“Perhaps, someday.” 

“But not today?” 

“I think not. I’ve tarried too long as it is. There is sickness Below.” 

The Doctor straightened, concern etching his features. “Why didn’t you say? The Doctor isn’t just my name, you know.” 

“It’s measles, I’m afraid.” 

“In late twentieth century America?” 

“Sometimes, the children who come to us have not been properly cared for in the world Above.” 

“No immunizations?” 

Vincent nodded gravely. 

“Finally, something I can fix. Come on!” 

***

“Vincent, where have you been? I had to send Winslow to fetch the supplies from our helpers,” the older man said crossly, as he turned, pushing his spectacles up on the bridge of his nose. “Who’s this?” he asked, eyeing the curly-haired stranger with his tall leather boots and Haggard-esque attire. 

“Father, I’ve brought a friend to help. This is the Doctor.” 

“Doctor who?” 

“Just the Doctor. I’ve brought Vitamin A supplements, pediatric fever reducers, a few broad spectrum antibiotics, just in case, and MMR vaccine.”

Father’s jaw dropped in surprise as he accepted the box that the Doctor held out to him. “I - well, I don’t quite know what to say. Thank you.” 

“You’re very welcome.” 

Father paused, rooting through the contents of the carton. He held up a box of toy soldiers, and a battered volume of Robert Louis Stevenson. 

The Doctor shrugged slightly. 

“Tell me, Doctor…do you by any chance play chess?” 

Vincent smiled, knowing a declaration of friendship when he heard one.


	3. Acquainted With the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you (as always!) to the lovely tenroseforeverandever.

“What’s this for, then?” Rose Tyler asked, peeping into the Harrod’s bag the Doctor had slung over one arm. She caught a glimpse of some tins of fancy tea before he jerked the bag out of reach. 

“The place we’re going, people don’t have all that much, and they’re grateful for a few simple luxuries.” 

“And where are we?” she persisted, as they stepped out of the TARDIS, into a rocky tunnel. She shivered slightly, and zipped up the hoodie that she wore over a bright pink tee shirt. 

“You’ll see,” the tall man in the battered leather coat told her. 

“Hello, Doctor,” a deep voice said. 

“Vincent.” 

“Hello,” Rose said, smiling brightly. 

The owner of the voice shrunk back slightly, into the shadows. 

“I’m Rose,” she continued. 

“Friends, Vincent?” a boy with a mop of blonde hair chirped. 

“Yes, Mouse. This is the Doctor -”

“Looks different than Mouse remembers.” 

“Mouse.” 

“It’s all right,” the Doctor assured them. 

“Pretty!” the boy exclaimed, pointing unabashedly at Rose. 

She smiled brilliantly at that, and stepped a bit closer. “So, who’s gonna tell me where we are?” 

“Down Below!” Mouse told her. 

“You are in New York,” the hooded man - the one the Doctor called Vincent - replied, seeing her puzzled expression. 

“Did you bring presents?” Mouse demanded. 

The Doctor smiled indulgently and rummaged in his pockets. He passed Mouse a banana and a shiny wind up toy robot. “These are for you.” He passed him the bag. “This, you give to Father or Mary, all right?” 

“All right,” Mouse agreed, nodding and smiling delightedly as he scurried away down the tunnel. 

Rose turned back to the Doctor in fond exasperation. “Aren’t you going to introduce me properly?” 

“Rose, this is my friend Vincent. Vincent, Rose Tyler.” 

“I am pleased to meet you, Rose,” Vincent said, finally stepping into the light. To his utter surprise, pretty blonde girl merely smiled at him. 

“Blimey. And this is really New York? Not spaceship New York, or future New York?” 

“Really New York, in nineteen eighty-seven.” 

A faint shadow passed over Rose’s face, gone in the blink of an eye. She smiled brightly as they continued deeper into the tunnels, laughing when they were overtaken by a group of children who immediately declared that she had the perfect accent to read Oliver Twist for them. 

***

“Your friend is very lovely,” Vincent observed, as he and the Doctor settled at the chessboard in his chamber. 

“Yes, she is.” 

“And you love her.” 

“So obvious, is it?” 

“Only to those who care about you.” 

“No!” the Doctor replied harshly. “Even to a…”

“A what, Doctor?” Vincent prompted. 

“A nightmare left over from the Time War.” 

“When you spoke of the Time War, you said that you were the only one left.” 

The Doctor leaned back in his chair, pressing a hand to his eyes. “That’s what I thought. It must have fallen through a crack in time.” 

“And, did you -?”

“No. I was going to - had a gun in my hands and all…I was so blinded by my rage, that I was ready to pull that trigger, even though…” 

“Even though -?”

“Even though Rose was in the way.” 

“But you didn’t do it.” 

“No, I didn’t.” 

“Rose seems a remarkable person,” Vincent observed. “There are not many people who meet me and remain unafraid.” 

“She wasn’t afraid of me, either, and of the two of us, I’ve done damage on a far greater scale.” 

“And you have also done great good. How many worlds were saved by the sacrifice you made to end the war?” 

“I don’t know. Sometimes, it seems like there’s so much blood on my hands that they’ll never come clean.” 

“Perhaps that’s why Rose came into your life - to help you see that there is still beauty and goodness in the universe - and to remind you that there is good in you, as well.” 

The Doctor smiled - a small, tight expression, totally lacking in joy or mirth. “She’s nineteen years old. Far too young for me to be thinkin‘ this way.” 

Vincent rolled his eyes at that. “By your own admission, you‘ve walked this earth for centuries. True love is a rare and wonderful thing. I think that when the universe grants you such a gift, you’d be foolish not to accept it.” 

“And when did you get so wise about matters of the heart?” 

“Since the night I met Catherine. Yes, there are obstacles before us, but we face them together. She brings me such joy, Doctor! And I would wish the same for you.” 

“You always were a romantic.” 

“So were you, when we first met.” 

“That was a long time ago.” 

“Five years isn’t so very long.” 

“Five years for you. For me, it was a war and two regenerations.” 

“You were alone, all through the war, weren’t you?” 

The Doctor nodded. 

“And now, you are not.” 

“You make it sound so simple.” 

“It is.” 

***

A soft smile crossed the Doctor’s face at the scene they found in the central chamber. Rose was curled in a large wooden chair, wrapped in a cozy afghan. The children were begging for just **_one more chapter_** , and Mary was trying to chivvy them to their chores, insisting that their guest must be worn out by now. As always seemed to happen, no matter how crowded the room, Rose caught his eye and grinned. 

Vincent merely raised one eyebrow. It was astounding how someone whose facial structure so closely resembled a lion could so clearly convey _‘I told you so.’_


	4. A Little Night Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you (as always!) to the lovely tenroseforeverandever. Written for the Timepetals 100 prompt “concerts.” Yeah, about that word count…

Voices carried far in the tunnels. 

“You’re a rubbish pilot,” a cockney-accented voice said accusingly. 

“I am not! I’ll have you know, my piloting skills are impeccable.” 

“Oh, yeah? Ian Drury, Sheffield, 1979? Elvis Presley, New York? Ring any bells? This time it was supposed to Billy Joel in Central Park. Where’ve you landed us, then? Mars?” 

“Now, Rose-”

Vincent smiled fondly as he stepped from the shadows. “You are beneath Central Park, Rose.” 

“Vincent!” she exclaimed, stepping forward to give him a friendly hug. 

“See? I did get it right!” the Doctor insisted. 

“Doctor? You’ve changed again,” Vincent noted. 

The Doctor scrubbed the back of his neck awkwardly with one hand. “Yes, well, at least this time, it was in a very good cause.” 

“Vincent? Is everything all right?” 

“Catherine,” Vincent, holding out his hand eagerly. “Come and meet my friends. This is the Doctor, and Rose.” 

Rose had always been glad not to be able to remember the fashions that were in vogue when she was a baby, but the woman who stepped from the shadows carried it off with a simple elegance that would have made her feel gauche, if not for the friendliness of her smile. 

“Vincent has spoken about you,” Catherine said, extending her hand to Rose and the Doctor in turn. “You travel, isn‘t that right?” 

“Yup,” the Doctor replied, popping the ‘p’ and bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

“How wonderful!”

“It is when he gets the landing right,” Rose carped. 

“Sometimes, you sound just like your mother,” the Doctor muttered. 

“I think this time, he did get it right, Rose,” Vincent said gently. 

“He was supposed to be takin’ me to see Billy Joel in Central Park.” 

Catherine laughed merrily at their exchange. “Would you settle for underneath Central Park?” 

“How’d you mean?” Rose asked, curiosity overcoming her pique. 

“This tunnel runs right underneath the band shell,” Catherine explained. “The sound quality is amazing.” 

“All right then,” Rose said, a smile tugging at her lips. “Who’s playin?’” 

“Billy Joel,” Vincent told her, in a deliberately impassive tone. 

Rose laughed and rolled her eyes. “All right, I admit it. You got it right. This time.” 

“Thank you very much, Rose Tyler,” the Doctor said, preening. 

“Think you’re so impressive,” she muttered. 

“I am so impressive!” 

“Some things never change,” Vincent said, sotto voce, as he offered Catherine his arm. 

“Do you think they’ll play ‘River of Dreams?’” Rose asked, as they followed their hosts. “I’ve always liked that one.” 

The Doctor shot her a look and shook his head once, sharply. 

“I’ve never heard of that song,” Vincent remarked. “But then I’m not so well versed in contemporary music.” 

“Well, you can’t be a New Yorker and not like Billy Joel,” the Doctor said glibly, hoping to head off any further chronological mishaps. “Ah - here we are!” he continued, noting the blanket and cushions that Catherine had spread out to sit on. 

They settled down, Catherine enfolded in Vincent’s embrace, and Rose and the Doctor sitting companionably nearby. Fortunately, the music was loud enough to drown out any discussion of songs that hadn’t been written yet. 

Rose alternated between clapping along with the lively songs, and leaning her head against the Doctor’s arm when the music quieted. Finally, she couldn’t sit still any longer and dragged the Doctor to his feet, laughing. They danced to ‘Only the Good Die Young’ with wild abandon, the Doctor’s long brown coat flying as he spun Rose energetically. Rose’s happiness was so infectious that he was able to, if not ignore the irony of the song title, at least push it away into a far off corner of his vast mind. 

Catherine looked up at Vincent and raised one eyebrow. 

“What is it, Catherine?” 

She bounded to her feet with far more grace than should have been possible in a dress and heels, and held out her hands. “May I have this dance?” 

“I might step on your toes,” he hesitated. Much as he loved music, Vincent felt ungainly compared to the Doctor’s handsome new form. 

“I might step on yours,” Catherine replied, “but we’ll never know until you try.” Her clear gaze told him quite plainly that she knew exactly what he was thinking - and that nothing mattered to her, save for the wish to share her joy in the music and the moment with him. 

“Then I will try, Catherine. For you.” 

Vincent was forever grateful that the next song was ‘She’s Got a Way,’ which allowed him to simply sway contentedly with Catherine in his arms. He observed the Doctor doing the same thing with Rose, and wondered anew at the miracle that was love.


End file.
